


Never Seen That Color Blue

by Kerasines



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Billy Hargrove Lives, Bondage, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends With Benefits, Halloween, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, POV Alternating, Post-Season/Series 03, Protective Billy Hargrove, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, The Upside Down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerasines/pseuds/Kerasines
Summary: Billy doesn’t want to think it, but Steve goes ahead and says it anyway. “A tentacle.”He looks as apprehensive as Billy feels at the thought of a fuckingtentaclebeing attached to Billy’s body in any way, let alone spontaneously growing out of his back. Jesus, what the fuck. But it’s undeniable that that’s what it looked like. What it felt like.“Fuck you. Christ. What the fuck.” Billy rubs his eyes until he sees stars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Way too late, but I can finally start posting my Tentacletober fic! This story will follow all 31 [prompts](https://lynne-monstr.tumblr.com/post/187578809624/its-official-tentacletober-is-here-31-days) in the right order, each chapter containing several prompts that I'll list at the end. Thanks to [Katie](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/) for reading this through and indulging my love for tentacles! Title from Taylor Swift's _Delicate_ because for some reason that's what I listened to on repeat while writing this? Anyway. Happy reading!

Billy wakes up slowly and with the distinct feeling that something is  _ off. _

Whatever he was dreaming can’t have been too pleasant, then. Not that that’s anything unusual these days, but most mornings he can at least pinpoint what it was, which part of the nightmare in July his mind decided to replay. Not remembering stuff leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, now, even when it’s just his own dreams.

Pushing his face more fully into the soft pillow under his cheek, he forces himself to breathe deeply, to focus on reality. To take stock of his surroundings, like he learned. He’s splayed out half on his stomach, bed sheet tangled around his legs, soft fabric on his skin almost too much in the stifling heat of the room despite the late October chill outside, sunlight bright through closed eyelids, his arm pressed up against warm skin – a body – Harrington.  _ Steve. _

Crap. Billy must have fallen asleep last night, after. But shit, Steve had worked him over real good, he can’t even really blame himself.

He should have just gone home, though, like he did the first few times this happened. Jesus. He should leave  _ now, _ before Steve wakes up and kicks him out. He hasn’t spent the night with a guy in ages. Bathroom stalls or the backseat of a car don’t lend themselves to sleepovers, in his experience, and most guys aren’t keen on small talk after a quick fuck, which is just fine with him, unless he needs a place to go for the night that isn’t home. Girls are easier that way, love to have him stay over when their parents are gone, love to indulge in their little fantasies of domesticating a guy like Billy, or whatever.

But that’s not what this is, this thing with Steve. Billy doesn’t  _ know _ what this is.

He’d call it something casual, just two guys finding a better way to relieve the tension between them than fighting and arguing – at least some of the time – except Billy doesn’t do casual anymore, doesn’t do anything anymore, really. Can’t bring himself to, not after what happened. What he did. He tried, at first, after they let him go home, went to bars far outside town to lose himself in strangers. It was short-lived, felt  _ wrong wrong wrong _ to let people touch his body without knowing what it had done, wrong in a way sex has never felt before. He’s not sure if it was for their sake, or his own.

Steve, though. Steve knows. Knows what Billy did, knows what’s out there, has apparently known for  _ years, _ knows how fucked up Billy is from all of it. Is fucked up from the same thing, in his own ways, Billy knows. They’re not friends, still at each other’s throats half the time, but they’re… allies. Allies who patrol the woods together, fight monsters together, share so many secrets that adding one more didn’t seem to matter much when they fell into bed together after a long night, battered and bruised and buzzing with adrenaline. They didn’t talk about it then, or the two other times, but it’s clear that it’s gonna keep happening, and Billy wouldn’t give up the feeling of Steve’s body under his for the world. He’s not going to ruin this by clinging to close, by making it into something it’s not.

So, he’s leaving. He’s definitely leaving. In a minute.

It’s better that way. 

But before he can move, before he can work himself out of the sleepy haze he’s in, that feeling of wrongness he’s been trying to ignore since he woke up intensifies, builds up inside him, and there’s a strange sensation at the small of his back – in his entire body – like his whole self is reaching out towards Steve, wrapping around his waist. Pulling him closer, holding him, except Billy’s arms are still curled in front of his chest, pressed against Steve’s back, nowhere near his waist.

Then, several things happen in quick succession.

Steve’s hand reaches down and  _ touches Billy, _ making Billy’s eyes fly open and dart down his body, where he sees something long and dark curled around both their waists, like a thick rope, but it’s slowly  _ moving, _ twisting and sliding and Billy can  _ feel _ Steve’s hand wrap around it. Billy jerks back at the same time as Steve lets out a panicked yelp and whips around, hand letting go of the  _ thing _ that immediately pulls back and – there’s that tingling sensation in Billy’s back again, like a buzzing swarm of bees being pressed inside him, making him gasp. His hand shoots down, but touches nothing but bare skin, the fucking thing gone and with it the tingling, vanished without a trace, whatever it was. 

Vanished  _ inside him. _ And Steve must have seen that, too.

Billy and Steve just lie there, not moving an inch, and stare at each other, eyes wide.

Steve breaks the silence. “I… did I dream that?”

He sounds pleading, but Billy’s not even sure which answer he’s hoping for. What’s worse, to have hallucinations in broad daylight or for that  _ thing  _ to have been real?

“Well. If you dreamed that, then so did I, I guess.” He feels frozen, panic boiling right under the surface. He’s kind of starting to hope for a hallucination, the longer he thinks about it.

“What the fuck. What the fuck,” Steve mutters as Billy pushes himself up and scrubs a hand through his tangled curls. He’s at a loss, like his brain can’t quite comprehend what it just witnessed, still waiting for it to feel less real. Waiting for that waking realization after a particularly realistic dream, except – it’s not coming. Not even when he pinches himself.

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, after they sit in silence for a while. “I need some fucking coffee.”

Billy huffs out a laugh and swallows down the hysteria clawing at his throat. Closes his eyes, and nods.

Ten minutes later they’re sitting in the kitchen, both cradling a hot cup of coffee like it’s a lifeline, like a strong dose of caffeine might magically make sense of the whole thing. Billy’s feeling more awake but no less confused, thoughts swirling around in his head half-finished, too scary for his mind to stick to for more than a split-second.

Steve’s voice is hesitant when he speaks up, cautious. “It looked like – like it… came out of your body.”

And Billy glares at him, knows why he sounds reluctant. He gets it. Monsters making themselves at home inside Billy’s body without his consent are a bit of a touchy subject these days, to put it mildly, and they all tend to avoid bringing it up, at least in Billy’s presence.

But.

“I did feel, uh. Something.” Billy swallows. “Like, like a  _ tingle _ , I don’t know.”

“On your back?”

Billy looks up at the ceiling, tries not to snap at Steve because he  _ knows _ it’s not his fault, and starting a fight is the last thing he needs to do right now. “Yeah.”

“That’s where–”

“I  _ know.” _ He swirls his coffee, looks over at Steve, makes a face. Doesn’t want to say these next words, doesn’t want to voice his fear, hates feeling so vulnerable, but he needs to. He needs to know. “Do you think there’s – is there something  _ in me?” _

Steve looks troubled. He looks like he wants to reassure Billy, a bizarre thing to see, but they’re both aware that there’s nothing he can say, really, that he couldn’t know for sure.

Billy’s still shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and he suddenly feels the need to cover up when Steve’s eyes drop to his midsection as if Billy might sprout another one of those things at any moment. Hell, for all they know, he might. He’s so sick of not knowing what his body’s about to do,  _ shit. _

He doesn’t give into the impulse to hide, though, turns around instead and lets Steve lean in close and trace the curve of the small of his back with feather-light fingers.

“There’s nothing.”

Billy already expected as much, couldn’t feel anything but smooth skin there after the  _ thing _ disappeared. He breathes out slowly. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, still rubbing the skin there. “Do you feel anything?”

“No.” Nothing, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, and he almost wishes there was some kind of pain, or discomfort, or more tingling, anything that would indicate that something was wrong. “Just your fingers.”

Steve pulls his hand back, and Billy takes it as his cue to turn back around.

“But you did feel a tingling? When, uh, when it happened.”

“Yeah. But…” Billy hesitates.

Steve holds his gaze, waits for him to continue, and he looks so apprehensive, so unsure of what the fuck is happening, that Billy can’t hold back. Can’t lie to him, not about monster shit, not when he held back and didn’t tell anyone about it the last time strange things started happening to him. So he opens his mouth and forces the words out, tells him the one thing that he’s been trying to ignore, to deny ever since it happened.

“It didn’t feel like something was  _ in _ me. It felt like it  _ was me. _ I could. I could feel your skin, where it touched you.”

Steve stares at him, clearly getting more and more worried. “Was it like… before?”

“No,” Billy says decisively, because that’s the only thing he’s sure of in this whole mess, the only thing that keeps him from freaking out. He just hopes Steve will believe him. “It wasn’t anything like before. Before, I could – I felt it, in my mind. Always. It took over my body. This isn’t that.”

It was him, it was him moving that thing, it was him thinking about reaching out, wanting to touch Steve, he’s sure of that now, even if he’s not gonna put it like that out loud.

“It felt like moving my arm, or my leg. Like it was a part of my body, except I didn’t move it on purpose. And then when I moved, it disappeared. Like. It pulled back just when I did.”

Steve looks even more worried now. Bites his lip. “We should probably tell someone.”

_ Fuck _ no. “And who should we tell? The kids, Hopper? The little girl who  _ lost _ her superpowers? It’s not like they’re gonna be able to do anything about it. Wanna call the lab before we have any idea what’s even going on, so they can lock me up for good and cut me open to look for – something? No fucking way.” Billy’s breathing hard, fingers curled into fists, and Steve puts up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Alright! You’re right. Fuck.”

Billy swallows and looks away. Can’t think of an alternative, either, no matter how much he doesn’t want to go back to that fucking lab he spent weeks at after the incident until they felt sure that there was nothing left in him. Great fucking job they did, he thinks bitterly.

Looks like Steve’s trying to come up with any other plan, too, because he drums his fingers on the kitchen counter and says, “Fine. We don’t have to tell the kids, I know what they’d say.” He stands up, suddenly determined. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re going to the library.”

“The library?”

“Research!” Steve throws over his shoulder, already heading up to his room, leaving Billy alone in the kitchen with two empty coffee mugs.

The prospect of leaving Steve’s house, going out into the real world after what happened, makes Billy want to run away. Hide under the bed, like he used to do as a little boy before his dad taught him better.

But he’s long since learned that he can never seem to outrun his monsters, so he gets dressed nonetheless. Puts on his shirt and the least pretentious-looking sweater he can find in Steve’s dresser. He’s gonna be warm, but it feels worth it to put as many layers between the small of his back and the outside world.  _ Just in case, _ he tells himself, feeling slightly nauseous. At least he’s with someone who knows, someone he trusts to keep him from hurting anyone, this time.

They take Steve’s BMW to the library, leaving the Camaro in Steve’s driveway for once, neither of them even suggesting Billy get behind a wheel right now.

Once they get there, though, they both just stand by the entrance, lost.

“So… what exactly do we research, smart guy?” Billy asks.

“Um. I didn’t really think that far,” Steve says, shoulders tensed defensively. “Dustin would know, probably. They always do this shit.”

Billy stares at him. Feels like he should have seen this coming, really. Asks himself why it doesn’t make him want to turn around and leave this idiot standing here; why it kind of makes him want to push him up against the shelf behind him and shut him up with a kiss, actually. Christ, he has issues.

“Well, I guess we should try to figure out what exactly it  _ was, _ now that we’re here anyway.”

They sit down at the table the furthest away from the counter and the lady standing behind it. Luckily, the only thing urgent enough to be driving people to the library so early on a Saturday morning is monster-related emergencies, so the building is completely empty besides them. Billy isn’t sure they could explain this away by pretending to work on a school project, especially considering Hawkins is small enough that most people probably know both of them graduated high school months ago.

“So. What did it look like?” Billy asks Steve.

He knows what it looked like, but he wants to know if Steve saw the same thing. If he remembers it the same. It’s not like either of them got a good look at it, after all, even though it feels like that split-second image burned itself into Billy’s memory forever. They were both still mostly asleep, too, so Billy figures it’s probably a good idea to compare notes to make sure.

Turns out Steve describes exactly what Billy saw, though. It was dark, almost black. Long. Thin. Flexible. Steve can tell him what its touch felt like, too, although he struggles to describe it beyond  _ slippery, almost slimy, but not really slimy, kind of soft, but kind of firm… _ and, well.

Billy doesn’t want to think it, but Steve goes ahead and says it anyway. “A tentacle.”

He looks as apprehensive as Billy feels at the thought of a fucking  _ tentacle _ being attached to Billy’s body in any way, let alone spontaneously growing out of his back. Jesus, what the fuck. But it’s undeniable that that’s what it looked like. What it felt like.

“Fuck you. Christ. What the fuck.” Billy rubs his eyes until he sees stars. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Steve knows what he’s really asking. “No. Not this summer, and not the years before, either. There were these… vines, in the tunnels. But they were different.”

It calms Billy down a bit, except. If it didn’t look anything like the Mind Flayer, or the Demogorgons, or the vines that nobody’s come up with a nerdy name for yet, that leaves the question, what the fuck else was it?

Billy sits there contemplating. “So what the fuck else has tentacles?”

“Octopus,” Steve says immediately. Billy grimaces, and Steve hurries to continue. “Jellyfish?” They both grimace this time.

“Fine. Jesus. Let’s go look at animals, I guess. Plants, too.”

They return to the table with two small piles of books and decide to start with the big one on sea creatures. Lovely. They sit down next to each other, backs hunched as they go over it together, heads bowed so close to each other that Billy can feel Steve’s hair tickling at his temples, can smell the coffee on his breath, can hear little noises of him shuffling around in the silence of the empty library.

Billy’s sweating under too many layers of clothing, but doesn’t dare to take them off, even less inclined to risk a repeat performance of this morning the longer he stares at these deep sea creatures.

The detailed images of squid limbs make Billy feel queasy. He half-heartedly suggests it could be a tail, or even some kind of weird plant, but they both have to admit that the closest match they can find is various sorts of cephalopod tentacles, except without any suckers. Or, at least neither of them noticed any suckers. Dear god, Billy hopes there isn’t anything with  _ suckers _ hiding inside his body. But he guesses at least an octopus tentacle is better than something like an anemone, or a sea snake, or a  _ worm, _ or any of the other gross things in these books.

It also cements the fact that it looked nothing like any Upside Down shit. There’s nothing resembling an octopus, or squid, or really anything living under the sea over there, nothing that Steve’s seen or heard of, at least, and nothing Billy got a glimpse of in the Mind Flayer’s consciousness, either. But, well. It’s one big fucking mystery, that place, and there’s absolutely no way to be sure.

Billy’s throat closes up at the mere thought of going home after this. Of being alone, around people unaware of what’s happening. Of going to sleep at all, this night.

“What do I do if it comes back?” Billy grunts out.  _ If. _ As if there’s any question about it.

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve says, visibly pulling himself together and closing the book in front of him decisively, and loud enough to elicit a pointed cough from the direction of the counter. “Now c’mon, let’s go.”

“Oh, and where do you think we’re going?” Billy stands and follows him towards the exit, not bothering with the books scattered on the table.

Steve turns to him with an amused smile. It only looks half forced. “Back to my place, of course. What, you think I’m gonna let you out of my sight when you’ve got a  _ tentacle _ spontaneously  _ growing  _ out of your back? Think again, asshole. You’re staying with me until we figure this shit out.”

Trying not to let the sharp relief show on his face, Billy sends him a sarcastic smile. “Bet you never thought you’d have to put your babysitting skills to use on a bona fide horror movie monster, huh?”

“You’re not the monster.” Steve frowns. “That thing is.”

Billy presses his lips together as he gets in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. Scowls. “Kill it, then.”

“What?”

“Kill it. Tomorrow morning, if you see it again, chop it off. Crush it with your thorny bat, I don’t care.”

He can feel Steve’s gaze on him for a long while, keeps staring resolutely out the windshield. Doesn’t want to hear any excuses. He knows Steve can toughen up when he needs to, and Billy wants that thing  _ gone. _ If he knew how to coax it out of his back right now, he’d do it himself.

Eventually, Steve nods, and starts the car. They head home in silence.

⸻

The next day finds them in the kitchen, Steve’s setting up spaghetti to boil while Billy’s cutting up tomatoes.

It’s too early for lunch, barely ten in the morning, but they’ve been awake since sunrise, roused by another appearance of that cursed fucking  _ tentacle. _ Billy had really kind of hoped the first time was a fluke, that it would disappear, or at least stay hidden in his back where he wouldn’t have to deal with it, but. Of course not. 

According to Steve it was much the same as the day before, except this time Steve had already been awake and could see the tentacle sneak towards him from behind Billy, right when Billy was starting to wake up. Billy remembers it vaguely, remnants of a dream still clinging to him when he opened his eyes to see Steve reach towards him, and snapping fully awake at that tingling sensation in his back that he’s coming to hate.

The tingling that he hasn’t been able to get out of his mind in the hours since, keeps thinking he can feel it flaring up again, like a phantom sensation that evaporates as soon as he pays attention to it.

He contemplates the knife in his hand, tests the sharp edge with his thumb, getting tomato sludge all over his hands.

“Not gonna work,” comes Steve’s long-suffering voice from across the kitchen.

Billy sets the knife down with force and spins around. “You don’t  _ know _ that.”

“How the hell could it, when I can’t even touch the thing!” Steve exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. Jesus, he’s so fucking dramatic. Billy almost rolls his eyes but stops himself in time, knowing it’ll only set Steve off again. They’ve been at this  _ all morning. _

“Well maybe if you were more  _ careful–” _

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve scowls, and Billy scowls right back.

“Look, just  _ try _ it, okay,” Billy says, for what feels like the hundredth time this morning. He’s trying to stay calm, to stay fucking reasonable, but Steve still riles him up like no one else.

“No.”

Billy curls his hands into fists. He doesn’t fucking understand. Doesn’t understand why Steve suddenly refuses to even try to cut the tentacle off, why he’s so sure it won’t work. So far it vanished as soon as Steve's fingers brushed it, yeah, but that might not happen every time. They might not be that  _ lucky. _

“Why–”

Steve gestures wildly with his hands, voice agitated when he says, “Because what if it’s connected to you! What if, what if I cut it off and you bleed out, huh? What if I  _ kill you?” _

That stops Billy short. He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I know you’d sacrifice yourself for the greater fucking good, Hargrove. But that’s not – I can’t. Okay? I can’t just do that.” He averts his eyes.

And that’s. Well. It’s not like Billy had even really considered the possibility, but. Yeah. Okay.

“Christ,” he murmurs. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, then. Just remember that  _ you’re _ the one in danger of being strangled to death any second, here.” He’s not petulant. He’s  _ not. _

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Dick.” But Steve doesn’t sound angry anymore. Billy’d put it somewhere between relieved and worried. Which, like, he should be. He can lecture Billy about what he did at the mall back in July all he wants, but he’s the one letting a guy stay with him who beat him unconscious, then let himself be possessed by a murderous inter-dimensional parasite, and now might well be turning into a tentacle monster for all they know.

He decides not to start another argument, though, and commends himself for the restraint. Arguing with Steve is one of his favorite pastimes, after all.

Instead, he goes back to preparing a salad while Steve’s busy with the spaghetti.

He still wants the thing gone. Doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know what it’s going to do, and he hates that more than anything. Steve’s right, of course, they have no idea what might happen to Billy if they cut the tentacle off just like that, but he can’t see any other way. If Steve doesn’t want to risk it, Billy’s just gonna have to do it himself. If he can figure out how.

The possibility that he might be stuck with an unpredictable, uncontrollable monster limb for the foreseeable future makes him panic a little bit. It almost makes him reconsider telling someone – anyone – except there’s no way he’s going back to that lab. Not unless he absolutely has to.

So far it hasn’t been dangerous, anyway. It seems to have acted according to Billy’s own thoughts or, well, desires or whatever, that first time. Reaching out for Steve. Pulling back when Billy startled. It didn’t do anything this morning, either. And he doesn’t want to hurt Steve, not anymore, not – not in any real way, anyway, so as long as he sticks to Steve and isn’t around anyone he might think about strangling, he should be fine. He’ll just have to stay here for a bit, while they try and figure this out. If Steve’s willing to put up with him. He might even get frequent orgasms out of it, hopefully, which Steve seems to be willing to put up with a lot for, considering he’s been tolerating Billy so far. And Billy, well. Billy doesn’t really mind having an excuse to stick around.

Billy absently watches Steve take the pot off the stove to take it over to the sink, wondering if he’ll even still want to fuck Billy now.

He’s looking at his ass when Steve suddenly trips over his own feet, falling forward, unable to find his balance. Billy sees the pot wobble dangerously, and he knows it’s about to spill boiling hot water all over Steve.

He takes a step towards him, but he’s too far away to do anything, too late – and then, suddenly, he sees something dark dart towards Steve, and he can  _ feel _ himself grabbing the pot, wrapping all around it, blinding hot pain shooting through his body, making him stagger and let out a garbled shout.

It can’t have been more than a second before it’s over, the tentacle dropping the pot next to the sink, letting go of the burning hot metal as soon as soon as it hits the counter with a loud clang, hot water spilling over it, adding to the burn. Then it’s wrenching itself away, pulling back in a slithering motion, disappearing behind Billy’s back. He can barely pay attention to it, though, too consumed by bright hot agony, but distantly registers a tingling stronger than ever, and then – the pain is gone. The tingling fading.

Billy stands there, panting. He feels like all the energy was sucked out of his body at once.

He takes a swaying step towards the counter, leans his weight against it.

Then, everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts  
Day 1: Tentacle cuddles  
Day 2: Under the sea  
Day 3: Injured tentacles  
Day 4: Tentacles save the day
> 
> [tumblr.](https://kerasines.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It's been, uh, seven months since the last chapter, and I only have the excuse of a global crisis for half of that time? But I always said that I haven't abandoned this fic and was planning to write more, and finally, here's proof! Let's all hope the next chapter will be done faster, but for now, enjoy this one!

Steve almost doesn’t notice that Billy’s about to pass out, too shocked by the _tentacle_ appearing out of nowhere and snatching a pot of boiling spaghetti water out of his hands right as it was about to spill all over him. Then the loud clatter of the pot hitting the marble counter, Billy’s strangled shout, it sound like he’s _hurt;_ It’s only the adrenaline already pumping through his veins from the whole thing lets him act fast enough to catch Billy under his arms when he sees his eyes rolling back into his head and his body going slack.

He’s fucking heavy, but still half-conscious and hanging onto the counter, movements sluggish and clumsy, and Steve does his best to prop him up against his own body, calling his name with increasing worry.

“Billy, _Billy_, shit, are you hurt, are you _okay_?” He frantically tries to think of what you’re supposed to do when someone faints. Lay them on their side? Elevate their legs? Slap them?

Finally, Billy nods weakly against his shoulder. “‘M fine,” he slurs. He sounds tired as hell.

“C’mon, can you move?”

It’s slow, Billy’s stumbling like doesn’t have the energy to move his feet properly, trying to shove Steve’s arm off his waist even though it’s the only thing holding him up, but they manage to get to the living room where Billy slumps onto the couch.

He still looks exhausted, but his eyes are open and focusing on Steve, and he seems to be coming back to himself, which calms Steve down a bit. Jesus, if Billy had passed out for real he might have ended up having to call an ambulance, risk let the doctors find a hidden tentacle on the X-ray or some shit.

“You hurt?”

Billy shakes his head. Frowns. “Hurt like a bitch, but only for like, two seconds.”

And okay, that’s. That’s kinda weird. Steve _saw_ that water spill all over the tentacle, heard Billy scream in pain. Like. Billy _said _he can feel what the tentacle feels. Burns that bad don’t just stop hurting two seconds, Steve knows, he put his hand on the stove once when he was a kid. It was hell. Hurt for like, a whole week.

He makes Billy lean forward so he can take a look at his back. Nothing. No blisters, not even any redness like he half expected. Gone without a trace, as usual. Steve lets his fingers skim over the smooth skin, then pulls back and looks at Billy.

“Wait,” he says, brain finally catching up with what happened, what the tentacle _did._ “Does this mean you control it?”

Billy just grimaces. He clearly already thought about this. Steve thinks he’s right. The tentacle _saved him._ Why else would it have done that, if not because of Billy?

“Thanks,” Steve says.

Billy scrunches up his face. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You like, snatched that pot away from me just in time, man. I was gonna get burned so badly. It must’ve been you.” It’s the only explanation. He’s pretty sure.

“Yeah, but I didn’t, like, do it on purpose. It just happened,” Billy says. “I watched you trip and knew I was too far away, and the next thing I knew I _felt_ that thing getting scorched like it’s my own skin.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, twisting his hands together. He looks tense, more tense than Steve’s gotten used to seeing him after everything, after he started to recover from everything. Steve’s not sure if Billy’s angry or scared, right now. Probably both.

“Even if it was just a reflex, though.” Steve nudges Billy’s knee with his. “Thanks.” 

Billy glances up at Steve, then back down at his hands. Lets out a breath. Then he visibly pulls himself together, shakes it off, straightens his shoulders. Back to carefully crafted, deliberate ease, except Steve can see the frayed edges. “Sure, princess. Somebody’s gotta save your clumsy ass. Guess it’s me and my tentacle today.”

He reaches for the tv remote and flips through channels, effectively ending the conversation, leaving them to sit next to each other in silence.

It’s not uncomfortable, not like it might have been a week ago, before they got weirdly used to existing in each other’s space, and Steve can’t stop thinking about what happened. What’s been happening, what’s happening right now. The implications of everything.

And like, okay, Steve _knows_ Billy doesn’t really care about him, thanks. But maybe – well, maybe he actually doesn’t want him to get hurt, at least. He wanted to help him, he said so. And he actually managed to control the tentacle, somehow. Steve kind of knew Billy didn’t want him to get hurt in the context of monster hunting, but protecting each other from demodogs on patrol and trusting each other with their lives is somehow different to this.

This is… too normal. Billy hurting himself to keep Steve from getting some mild burns while they were cooking lunch together. That’s not a life-or-death situation. That’s just – domestic, despite whatever weird magic tentacle they’re dealing with. The last two days have felt _domestic._

Steve doesn’t know how to deal with it. Doesn’t know how to keep his distance when he can’t _keep his distance._

He feels like an idiot for ever wishing Billy would stay until morning, those first few times they hooked up, because now that he’s seen Billy in the morning? All sleep-mussed and tired and sipping coffee next to him? It’s a little bit devastating. He hates himself for even thinking about it with everything that’s going on, everything Billy’s dealing with, but. It’s been _nice,_ having Billy around.

Like, Billy’s still an asshole, still makes fun of Steve all the time, teases him in that mean way that he has, won’t stop until Steve’s worked up in anger or something else, but god. It feels good to have Billy’s attention focused on him. Feels so much better than watching Billy leave as soon as he can to find something better to do, someone better to fuck. Shit. Steve knew this was a bad idea right from the start, knows he’s just another convenient lay to Billy. But right now Billy’s here, with him, relying on his help, trusting him, keeping him from getting hurt, and it’s just. Harder to remind himself of that, now. 

Steve sighs. Staring blankly at the tv isn’t helping, so he gets up and returns with two plates of the forgotten spaghetti. Billy eats like he was starving.

It should be disgusting, the way he shovels food into his mouth, but. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of Steve’s sweatpants, the rest of his body casually on display, and he’s sitting in Steve’s living room, on Steve’s couch, and it’s just, it’s distracting. He looks cozy. Normal. No leather or denim or heavy metal blaring out of his car to make him seem like he belongs in a movie. Just Billy. Having lunch with Steve. Casually. Steve wants to kiss him. Jesus Christ. He’s gotta stop thinking.

At least he’s getting his energy back, though, it seems. By the time they finish eating, he’s back to his normal self, no visible trace left of the exhaustion in his movements, the drowsiness from half an hour ago.

“So…” Steve says, then trails off. He’s not sure if he should bring this up, but they have to talk about it at some point. About what it means that the tentacle seems to follow Billy’s commands, or thoughts, or, like, impulses. It doesn’t seem to have a mind of its own, at least so far, and that’s a good thing, but. He stuffs his mouth with a large bite of spaghetti to give himself some time.

Billy looks at him expectantly. 

Steve swallows the spaghetti down. “Well, if you can control the, uh, tentacle – _kind of_ control it, whatever. Can you like, actually control it? Make it grow on purpose, or something?”

Billy raises his eyebrows like he didn’t even consider making the tentacle appear on purpose. Shit, maybe he’s right. It’s probably a stupid idea. 

Too late to take it back, though, as Billy already closes his eyes, bites his lip, a look of concentration on his face. The clock on the wall ticks on as Steve watches with bated breath, waits for the tentacle to grow out of Billy’s back any moment. Suddenly nervous, he thinks he should have grabbed a knife first, or his bat, just – well, just in case. He can’t believe he was so confident that Billy’s able to control that thing a minute ago.

But then – nothing. Steve leans sideways to better look, his eyes darting between Billy’s concentrated face and his bare, unblemished back as the seconds go by. Nothing happens. Billy opens his eyes, looks at Steve as he reaches behind him to feel the smooth skin, not a trace of any tentacle.

“Can’t even feel a tingle, so. Guess not.”

“Oh.” Steve frowns. ”Maybe it’s gone for good. Maybe we burned it out?”

Billy looks skeptical. Frustrated. “Yeah, maybe.” 

It sounds too good to be true, Steve has to agree. So, Billy can only semi-control it. Or, can only control it when it’s out? Either way, he’s not sure what to do about it, but.

“You should stay here for a while. Maybe we can figure it out.”

“Fine.”

“I mean–” Steve realizes what that sounds like and backtracks, “You don’t have to, like, I just think it’s better to be around someone who knows, for now – I can make up the guest room for you–” 

But Billy doesn’t let him continue. “I said it’s _fine._ And what would I wanna sleep in the fucking guest room for?” He looks at Steve. “Do _you_ want me to sleep in the guest room?”

“No! I mean, no.”

Billy hums, leans closer. Doesn’t quite leer at him, but it’s close enough that Steve can pick up on the intent behind it. “We’ll just have to find a way to entertain ourselves while I’m stuck here, huh?”

The sudden shift in the air makes Steve dizzy. He doesn’t know how Billy does it, how he can change the atmosphere in a room in an instant. He doesn’t even have to do anything to turn Steve on, just has to look at him sideways with those bright eyes and Steve’s brain turns to mush. Billy’s so close now, face inches from Steve’s.

Steve drops his gaze to Billy’s soft, inviting pink lips, watches them stretch into a grin in response, looks up into his hooded eyes.

Billy leans in, slowly, almost closes the gap between them. Lets his lips catch on Steve’s.

“Wanna distract me for a bit, hm?”

Biting his lip to keep from nodding too eagerly, Steve lets his fingers trail up Billy’s chest, watches him shiver ever so slightly, rests his hand on Billy’s neck. God, he wants. He always wants, has been wanting Billy for so long, even if it took him a while to recognize it, to admit it to himself, and now he just wants him all the time.

Billy pulls back when Steve tries to catch his lips in a kiss, dances just out of his reach, a small smile pulling at his lips. He loves to tease Steve, Steve’s noticed. Loves to rile him up, to hold off on giving him what he wants, to make him wait, and god, Steve wants to be annoyed, but it’s so good. But that doesn’t mean he’ll just give in, Steve thinks, and pulls Billy in with a hand on the back of his neck.

Billy grins against his mouth, but kisses back when Steve takes his lower lip between his, teases at it with his tongue. 

Jesus, Billy’s so fucking hot. Steve can feel the stubble scratching at his skin, already knows from experience that the skin around his mouth will be red and sensitive if they keep going for long, knows Billy is strong enough to hold him down if he wants to, can feel the muscles of his arms unders his palms, his deep, rough voice when he moans, the faint smell of sweat as he hasn’t showered today, and maybe it shouldn’t turn Steve on so much to be reminded that Billy’s so unmistakably a _guy_, but god, it does.

It really, _really_ does.

They share heated kisses until Steve can’t think of anything but Billy, and it feels so fucking good. He’s on Steve’s lap, legs splayed, rocking down against him, sucking on his tongue until Steve breaks away, breathing hard. He just – has to ask. He’s trying for casual, but his voice is tentative, in a stark contrast to the way he’s rubbing his hard cock against Billy’s thigh. “The thing we – what we did last time.” 

Billy smirks. “You mean, when I fucked you?”

Steve narrows his eyes. “When _I_ fucked _you_.”

“Aw, baby,” Billy says with a mean grin and pats Steve on the cheek just a little too hard to be friendly, like he can tell Steve likes it. “It might have been your dick in my ass, but we both know who did the fucking.”

Steve can feel his face heat, remembers the way Billy pinned his wrists to the bed and bounced on his cock just a few days ago, how helpless he felt to do anything but hold on and try and keep up, give as good as he was getting. Remembers how good it felt to be inside him, hot-tight-perfect, how Billy moaned and whimpered and took him like it was the best thing he ever experienced. And – Steve wants that. He wants to know what it’s like. 

He purses his lips, chooses not to dignify Billy’s teasing with a response, even though he’s sure he must be blushing like a virgin. He has a goal in mind, here. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Not too much, not if you do it right.”

Steve nods. Knows Billy would do it right, knows he’s pushy and controlling, but surprisingly considerate. Or maybe not so surprising, now that Steve got to know him a little. He leans back in to fit his mouth over Billy, kisses him deep, then mouths along his jaw. “I wanna try. The other way ‘round, I mean. Like – if you want to.” 

Billy strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair, gets a fist in it and tugs lightly to press Steve’s face against his throat, encourages him to suck harder. Steve hopes he’s leaving a bruise behind. “Yeah,” Billy says, face half buried in Steve's hair. “God, yeah, I want to.” 

He ducks down to lick into Steve’s mouth. It’s hot, and slick, and Steve feels feverish with how much he wants this. It’s nothing like when Billy taught him how to suck his dick. He wanted that, too, but there’s none of that same nervousness now, none of the worry that he’ll be bad at it. He trusts Billy to make it good, and god, that thought alone makes him buck up desperately, grinding his dick against Billy’s thigh, looking for friction.

“Alright, fuck, c’mon,” Billy murmurs, ignoring Steve’s disgruntled whine, and stands up. “Get naked. I’ll get the lube.”

Because Billy brought _lube_ with him when he came over two days ago. Because he _planned_ to get fucked, which is still the hottest thing ever. Steve has to admit, it’s better than the lotion he uses to jerk off.

Steve’s trying to wrestle his pants and socks off by the time Billy comes thundering down the stairs, shirt discarded, carrying the bottle of lube and a condom that he tosses onto the ugly yellow couch next to Steve to finish undressing in a hurry.

Steve’s been thinking about this since he fucked Billy. What it must feel like. Thought he’d try it out with his own fingers before he mentions it to Billy, but then, well, everything happened and Billy stayed with him ever since and he never got any alone time, so. Fuck it. Just the thought of it makes him feel hot all over. He doesn’t want to wait. It’s the first time since that morning that his mind is completely focused on something other than that fucking tentacle, too, and he needs this, thinks Billy probably needs it even more. Assuming this’ll be enough to take Billy’s mind off of it, but, well, judging from the predatory look on Billy’s face, the single-minded focus as he watches Steve lie back on the couch, Steve’s feeling pretty confident.

Good. Billy deserves a distraction, they both do. Let off some steam before they’ll probably have to deal with that thing again when Billy wakes up tomorrow morning.

The couch is long enough to stretch out on, but narrow, and it takes a bit of effort to find a comfortable position. He lets Billy arrange his legs, ends up with one leg thrown over the back of the couch and the other propped up on the edge, spread wide, Billy sitting on his knees between them. It makes Steve feel vulnerable, and heady, and he doesn’t know if he wants to cover up or spread his legs even wider.

Steve’s breath catches at the look on Billy’s face. The way he lets his eyes wander over Steve’s body, like he’s hungry, like he’s drinking him in. He touches Steve’s legs, softly, traces his hands along the length of them, palms his knees, his thighs, as he leans forward.

His touch leaves Steve’s skin tingling in its wake when he lets go to hold himself up as he creeps closer, hands on the cushion on either side of Steve’s body, caging him in. He looks so fucking good like this, braced above Steve. The golden curls falling around his face, tickling Steve’s cheeks. The dangerous glint in his eye. Moving slowly, deliberately, like a lion watching its prey, and Steve thinks he’s never wanted to run away less than he does in this moment.

Billy leans down on his elbows so he can reach for the lube and spread some on his fingers. Instead of reaching down like Steve expects him to, though, he rests his other hand on Steve’s face, stroking his cheek, his neck, whatever he can reach with his weight braced on his elbows. He leans in close, nudges his nose against Steve’s.

“Relax,” he murmurs against Steve’s mouth. “And tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll go slow.”

Steve nods, feels breathless when Billy catches his lips in a deep kiss, tongue playful against his. 

If he’s trying to distract Steve, it’s working. Kissing Billy is addictive, and so is the friction of his cock against Steve’s, but it’s not long before Billy pulls back to put enough space between their bodies to reach down between Steve’s legs and brush his slick fingers against his hole, rubbing, teasing him, until he can push the tip of his finger inside.

He goes back to kissing Steve. Fucks his tongue into his mouth, then pulls back, teasingly, tracing the tip over his lip before biting down. Moans when Steve bites back in retaliation. All the while working his finger into Steve, inch by inch, so slowly he can barely pay attention to it.

Steve can _feel_ himself opening up, and it feels weird, but it doesn’t hurt, not even once Billy can push the entire length of his finger in. 

It’s when Billy works a second finger in alongside the first that the stretch becomes too much to ignore it, insistent enough to distract him from kissing. Billy leans back on his heels to watch Steve’s face, his own scrunched up in concentration, light flush on his cheekbones, his lips so fucking red, and wet, as he fucks his fingers into Steve. And it starts to feel good. _Real_ good. The stretch is a lot, but fuck, Steve can’t get enough of the feeling. His hips twitch with every thrust, wanting more, wanting it deeper, and Billy must notice.

“Shit, yeah,” he says, biting down on his lip and slowing his movements, encouraging Steve to meet the thrust of his fingers. To fuck himself on them. God. “I knew you’d like it. Knew you’d be like this. You’re so fucking hot, baby, fuck.”

Steve moans at the nickname. He doesn’t know why it’s so _hot _to be called that, but Jesus, it makes him feel all sorts of things. Nancy never called him that. No one ever called him that before, not that he wanted them to.

Or maybe some girls did, and he just didn’t pay attention because it wasn’t _Billy_ saying it.

He wouldn’t be surprised. Billy’s just so – abrasive, most of the time. Even when he’s not being mean, he’s not usually what anyone would categorize as gentle, or sweet, or _affectionate_. Polite, sure, even nice, these days, sometimes. But hearing him call Steve baby, or pretty, or, like, when he tells him that he’s being _good,_ without a hint of mockery, it’s just. It’s _a lot_.

Billy doesn’t even seem to notice that he sent Steve spiralling with just one nickname, he’s so focused on pumping his fingers, watching Steve open up for him. He looks dazed, and flushed, eyes bright and intense, and his dick is so fucking hard when Steve looks down, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.

He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to move things along, just leans forward, hovers over Steve, holding himself up with one arm, and Jesus, Steve can’t help but admire his muscles, wants to trace them with his tongue, taste the sheen of sweat. As it is, he’s too busy clutching at the couch, moaning and writhing under the attention, all he can manage is to tug Billy down into a kiss, and Billy obliges, kisses him hard and deep, lets Steve suck on his tongue and bite at his lips and pant into his mouth.

Even though there’s no friction on Steve’s dick with the way Billy’s holding himself up, his fingers fucking into him feel so good Steve things he might come just from this.

Then Billy’s hand closes around his dick and clamps down.

Steve feels it move around him, coiled tight, one finger tracing the length of his cock, stroking gently over the head, circling the sensitive slit, teasing at it, _slipping inside_ – and, okay, that – that feels so fucking good but _so fucking_ weird, it’s too much, this isn’t, he doesn’t – Steve’s gasp breaks their kiss and he looks down and–

Oh, holy mother of god. Oh fuck. That’s not Billy’s hand, that’s a fucking _tentacle_ wrapped around his dick. Trying to get _inside it._

Steve reacts after a second of blind panic. He reaches down with both hands, intent on ripping the tentacle off his dick, but two more tentacles shoot into his field of vision and his wrists are snatched back, pressed against the armrest above him, and he feels a pressure around his ankles and tries to kick it off, but he _can’t move_–

“Fuck!” He exclaims, his voice tight with panic, “How many of those _are _there?!”

Billy is stock still above him, not moving a muscle, and he looks _terrified_. It’s clear as day that he’s not doing this on purpose, and it sends another lick of fear down Steve’s spine. Billy can’t control the tentacles. He doesn’t know how to stop this any more than Steve does. Oh god, one of those things is still wrapped around his dick.

“Stay. Still.” Billy’s voice is carefully low and even, but Steve can hear it trembling slightly.

He gives a tiny nod, trying not to move any other part of his body. Not that he could. The tentacles’ hold isn’t tight enough to hurt, barely even unpleasant now that he’s not trying to break free, but it’s still definitely tight enough to hold him still, and even though it stopped moving, the thin, pointy end of the first tentacle is still very noticeably just inside the tip of his dick, and he really, really doesn’t want to risk making it go deeper.

Slowly, bit by bit, Billy slides his fingers out of Steve’s ass and sets it down on the cushion to hold himself up above Steve with both arms, careful to avoid any hasty movements.

His entire body is tense and his eyes are trained sharply on Steve’s groin, concentrating hard. Nothing happens at first, but then, slowly but surely, Steve can feel the tentacle loosen up around his dick, slip out of the tip, can see it peel away gently, haltingly, and retreat behind Billy’s back.

Steve lets out a relieved breath, and then the tentacles holding onto his wrists and ankles follow suit, loosen up all at once to release him, and disappear out of his sight one by one.

As soon as they’re gone, Billy stumbles off the couch, landing on his ass, and scrambles away from Steve. “Sorry, fuck,” he says, “It wasn’t me, I didn’t– I’m _sorry.”_ Now that the tense look of concentration is gone from his face he just looks shaken, and fuck.

Steve can’t fucking _deal_ with this.

It reminds him of the glimpses he got of Billy those first few weeks after what happened in July, and Billy’s not supposed to have that look on his face, not anymore, not _again._ Steve feels his own throat close up, wants to do something, wants to hold Billy until his insides don’t feel so twisted up anymore, but Billy would probably fucking deck him if he tried that.

“I’m fine,” he says instead. “It’s fine, I’m okay, nothing happened.”

Billy snorts. “Nothing _happened?”_

“Oh, whatever, Hargrove, you know what I mean.” Like hell is he gonna let Billy go down that road right now. “You didn’t hurt me, I’m _fine,_ can we focus on the important thing here now?”

“What do you– your health is not the important thing?” Finally, that haunted look is replaced with one of bewilderment and Steve’s got Billy’s attention.

“You controlled them.”

“I almost–”

“And then you pulled them back!”

Billy looks indignant, like Steve’s lost his mind, but Steve knows he’s right. This is good, this is _proof_, proof that the tentacles are actually under Billy’s control. That his mind is what makes them move, that even if it’s not on purpose all the time, he can make them do what he wants when he concentrates.

It’s also proof that there are at least four more tentacles than they previously thought, which, less awesome, but hey, now they know.

And sure, Steve would have preferred to get all of that figured out without damn near having a heart attack, but it wasn’t that bad. He didn’t even get hurt, so really, it’s not a big deal. So he had a tentacle play with his dick. He’s had worse. He almost thinks he wouldn’t have minded _at all_, if he’d known Billy could control them for sure, but he shuts that train of thought down immediately. 

“What’s it matter that we know I could control them if shit like this happens?” Billy argues.

“We just gotta figure out how to control ‘em better.”

Billy stares at him. “You don’t think I should… tell someone?” Go back to the lab, he means, by the look on his face. And, no. Fuck that place.

“No offense, but I don’t think they’ll teach you how to control your magical tentacles. To be honest, I don’t wanna know _what_ they’d do to you. So, _I_ think you should stay here.”

“What if I hurt you?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Pretty sure hunting demodogs together is more dangerous,” he says. “Besides, you didn’t even come close to hurting me, really. You weren’t going to. We were just surprised.” He walks over to where Billy’s still sitting on the floor, and offers him a hand. “And now we have something to work with. We can, like – practice?”

Billy looks up at the ceiling as if asking someone up there for strength. “Fine,” he sighs, admitting defeat. He grabs Steve’s outstretched hand and lets himself be pulled up. “Fine. We’ll practice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts  
Day 5: First time  
Day 6: Tentacle sounding  
Day 7: "How many of those are there?"  
Day 8: Tied up by tentacles
> 
> [tumblr.](https://kerasines.tumblr.com/post/188704611395/)


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